Blue Silk Burberry
by ThePinkMoonPlatoon
Summary: Started out as a brotherly thing and ended up Mystrade. Suggestive themes. Mycroft/Lestrade John/Sherlock. Slash and Anderson punching. Please review!


**I accidentaly Mystrade!** **It started as a 'no one offends my brother' fic, but then this happened. Oops. Reviews are love, guys! Hope you enjoy it! **

As he approached the crime scene tape cordoning off where the latest murder victim lay, Sherlock heard the annoying tones of Anderson droning on to Sally, as usual. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said until he ducked under the tape.

'...and the psychopath's brother, have you seen him? Always walking around with that umbrella even when it's perfectly good weather, thinking he's better than everyone else. And for once I agree with Sherlock on something; he does need to be on a diet.'

Sherlock's stride became purposeful now, as he marched towards Anderson's back, a murderous looking Lestrade clenching his fists behind him, also closing in for the kill.

'Anderson!' he roared, and as he turned, Sherlock slammed his fist into his face, and he instantly fell to the floor clutching his broken nose, 'No-one offends my brother in front of me! And it would be best not to talk about him like that to the man he's sleeping with!'

'Sherlock!' Lestrade looked surprised, but grateful as he addressed the Consulting Detective.

Sherlock sighed breathily, 'Yes, Lestrade?'

'Why- what- how did you know that!' Lestrade garbled.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock sighed again and began his explaining, 'Well, the shirt you wore last week was a blue silk Burberry shirt, tailored, but not for you and too expensive for your salary, therefore it has to be from a wealthy man other than yourself. You wouldn't be wearing it if it were just a friend's shirt, too expensive to let anyone borrow, so lover. You have a busy job, hard to meet people who you don't work with and maintain a serious relationship, so you must be with a person who is just as busy, if not more so. The only male who you are acquainted with who is very busy, very wealthy, adores Burberry and uses that distinctive aftershave I can smell on you, as have smelt on you for the last month, is Mycroft. Oh and he may have told me too.'

'He- he told you!' Lestrade cried incredulously.

'Well, I may have pushed him. A bit.' Sherlock said noncommittally, until he gave in to Lestrade's brutal stares and continued, 'I could tell he was sleeping with someone. I told him I would tell Mummy and force him to bring them to Holmes manor for Christmas if he didn't tell me who it was. And he, resentfully I must add, told me it was you. But I thought it might be! I just didn't like to be presumptuous.'

Lestrade scoffed, about to retort until a loud groan was heard from Anderson, still writhing on the floor. Both standing men sighed scornfully as Sally pulled him to his feet, pushing him away from them, muttering at everyone.

'I suppose I should thank you; I would have punched him if you hadn't first.'

'I suppose I should thank you too, Sherlock,' a voice came from behind them, making Sherlock pale slightly, 'It's nice to know you'd defend my honour if needed.'

'Mycroft-' Sherlock replied almost sounding embarrassed, and swivelling to face him. He took one look at him and grimaced, eyes flicking to Lestrade, 'Mycroft, if you're going to shag someone at least _try_ to hide the frankly repulsive fact-'

'Hey!' Lestrade chimed in, 'S'not repulsive!'

'I beg to differ; I think I'm going to gag!' he choked out.

'I think Mycroft has lost the use of his gag reflex...' Lestrade muttered.

'Gregory!' Mycroft blushed.

Sherlock looked like he was about to be sick when John walked over to the trio.

'Sherlock, I came as soon as I could-' John began.

'John! Oh, John, thank god you're here! They're telling me about their sex life! Help me!'

John's eyes widened, but he smirked nonetheless, 'Well, we can't have that, can we?'

Sherlock grabbed John's hand and pulled him away from the crime-scene, 'I've solved the case. I'll text you the details. Come on, John, we need some milk.'

John's sly smile came back as he said, just loud enough for Mycroft and Lestrade to hear, 'Oh, we've ran out of lube too.'

They both giggled at the choking noises from behind them.


End file.
